


uninvited

by spacehussy



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Thor (Comics)
Genre: A Comedy of Sexy Errors, Feelings, Mood Whiplash, Multi, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-27 19:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17167673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehussy/pseuds/spacehussy
Summary: Besides, Loki told himself (and told himself, and told himself)—it was fine! If Thor wasn’t interested, he would do his best to move on and enjoy his new single life in private.Except for one small problem: Thor did not seem capable of letting him.—Aka, Five Times Thor Showed Up Uninvited (And One Time He Didn’t)





	1. prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> showing up ten years late with this fanfic trope and also starbucks, but hey, I’ve never written a ‘5 times (+1)’ before! everyone’s legally allowed at least one, right?
> 
> i cannot thank @reikah enough for being the best beta and cheerleader this bitch could possibly ask for, and as well everyone who shot me a note of support when this thing was giving me grief :')
> 
> (Including a few tertiary Loki pairings, mostly chosen for laughs.)

It all started with a kiss. 

Well, something that _might_ have been a kiss, if Thor had not turned up when he did, interrupting Loki’s child-self and Leah from their otherwise private moment. Loki came to think, later, and once he was somebody else, that it had been for the best; Thor had saved him from _that_ uncomfortable memory, near thing as it was. Perhaps if Thor stopped there, things might have been…different, maybe he might have had the chance for a cleaner break from his old life, the strength and complexity of his feelings for his mighty brother, but no. 

But of course Thor had not stopped there; he never did. 

That first interruption, as grateful as Loki came to be for it, was not a one-off situation. If anything, it seemed to set a precedent for his brother turning up unannounced when they both lived on Midgard. At first, Loki had not minded, as they certainly had not spent such peaceful time together in an age, though the risk it brought—regarding certain _details_ about his identity—kept him often on his toes. 

Perhaps, he thought, after yet another unnecessary consultation about some magical item, he had read too much into it—that Thor was simply using any flimsy pretext he could to visit and spend time together, now that Loki had his newly minted adult form. 

It certainly _seemed_ like it. Perhaps they were building to something—something they had tiptoed around in Loki’s former life, something that burned between them even in the depths of animosity he once felt, but that would be altogether new in this one. Risky, risky, risky—Loki knew all that, but he was a changed god. _Reformed!_ New _and_ improved. He desired Thor plainly, as would anyone—and if that desire was mutual, Loki saw no reason that they should deny themselves such a thing. 

But when Loki tried to communicate this to his brother, to let Thor know he needed no excuse to spend time together…that his attentions would be _welcome,_ and with a much lower risk of attempted murder… It had not gone smoothly. 

Well, that was an understatement. It was a disaster, actually, though he partly blamed himself—perhaps a kiss was pushing it—but _still._ A terrible disappointment, and an odd one too, for he was surprised at how badly he had misjudged the situation.

But it was…fine, Loki told himself after, while listening to a few melancholy Broadway musicals on repeat. Maybe he misunderstood, or maybe Thor wasn’t interested in exploring that uncharted territory with him and all its alluring potential. It was _fine_. It probably was too much of a risk, and Thor was too stubborn and unwilling to see him as anything but the child he had been. 

Besides, Loki told himself (and told himself, and _told_ himself)—he deserved better than a grown man who would rather try and cram his massive body out of a fire escape window than have a conversation about their romantic future. If Thor wasn’t interested, Loki would do his best to move on and enjoy his new single life in private.

Except for one small problem: Thor did not seem capable of _letting_ him. 


	2. Chapter 2

True, the hour was late. Thor was not denying that, but he would not intrude upon his brother in this manner if it were not important. He had need of Loki’s expertise; even with patchwork memories of the vast knowledge he once held, Thor would come to him first before anyone else in this realm.

And he knew also that Loki should be _home_ , according to Stark’s surveillance devices that Thor had grudgingly permitted. 

( _“It’s just the exits, big guy!”_ Stark had said. _“Relax. This is Loki we’re talking about. New leaf or not, we just want to keep an eye on the building—now will you put the hammer down?”_ )

Should be home, yes. Yet as Thor knocked and knocked and knocked, with no apparent response from inside, he began to grow concerned. There was a sound he could almost make out, a low droning, and periodic soft shouts, though he could not make sense of it.

Thor frowned and knocked once more, louder yet; the noises continued, and his worry only grew. Although he bade himself to wait, his resolve lasted until another shout, much louder than before, Loki’s voice unmistakable. 

Perhaps it was rash, but with enemies such as Loki had garnered in his previous life when he was far stronger, Thor decided at once he was unwilling to take a chance if his brother was in some danger. 

So he broke the door down.

It was not difficult; it took naught but a single punch to the center of the door for the hinges to shatter like glass, metal and wooden splinters flung into the air as the door itself cracked and fell in several pieces to the floor with a dull clatter.

Thor ducked inside through the broken and now-sagging door frame, through the dust hanging in the air, wood cracking into splinters under his feet from the weight. Of course it was at that moment that he came face to face with his brother at last, lifting his head to see Loki blinking at him across the expanse of his living room. His dark hair lay plastered wet to his neck and forehead, mouth open in mute shock. He had a hand extended, glowing faintly green, though it faded as their eyes met. 

And he was—very nearly—completely undressed. Loki stood there, wide eyed and staring, and armed with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Barely even that; for it was _indecently_ small, held in place only by Loki’s free hand, in a white knuckled grip.

“Thor,” Loki breathed, taking in the sight slowly, and Thor felt himself go very still as he did the same. But the strange silence only lasted a moment or two before Loki erupted in outrage. “What the _fuck?_ ” 

All at once, Thor felt deeply foolish, and rushed to explain himself. 

“Forgive me, brother, I acted without thinking,” he said, as Loki floundered and gestured at the mess one-handed. 

“ _Norns_ , no wonder I can’t live anywhere nice,” Loki groaned, and ran that hand through his wet hair in frustration. “What possessed you to do that?”

Fumbling and red-faced, Thor struggled to put into words the idiotic logic that had somehow justified his actions. It had all made sense a moment ago. “I heard—shouting, I thought perhaps you might be in trouble—”

Hearing it out loud did not help at all. Loki’s brow furrowed, though his face unexpectedly flushed as Thor watched.

“Can’t a guy sing in the shower without someone calling the cops,” Loki muttered, again scrubbing a hand over his face, red with embarrassment and anger. All of which Thor understood. Loki had _every_ right to be infuriated with him. He had overreacted and acted in a manner beneath himself, all without just cause, as if this were some foul lair he had tracked his brother down to, and not Loki’s _home_. 

But in truth, he could think clearly about none of that. His thoughts instead were consumed utterly by his growing unease at the sight of Loki before him. The towel he was holding was clearly not meant to cover much, for Loki’s new form was slight, and it still did not wrap all the way around. Details that came second to the realization that it had been some time since he had seen his brother so unclothed, perhaps not since they were young together, much less this new body, so recently matured. 

“You couldn’t wait, what, five minutes?” Loki continued then, when he said nothing. “You just show up—”

Thor drew an unsteady breath, raising his voice to interrupt the stream of Loki’s words. It was something about his impatience, and how he now owed his brother a new door, but nothing that couldn’t wait a moment or two more. 

“Of course, whatever you ask,” Thor said, sounding stiff and uncomfortable even to his own ears. “But first, please, can you not—cover yourself?” 

With fresh outrage and indignation, Loki’s face turned even deeper red, almost purple. He stopped complaining, his monologue turning to loud and creative swearing—words not even the All-Speak seemed capable or willing to translate; but in the end he did as asked, conjuring a proper dressing gown from the shimmering air. 

“—can’t believe you,” Loki was saying. “You break into my apartment—literally!—and you have the _gall—”_

Loki then interrupted himself, falling briefly silent to stab his arms through the sleeves of his robe. Once he had, and the dark green material was wrapped around his agitated form, he lifted his chin to meet Thor’s eyes and frowned. “There. Are you happy now?” 

Happy was most assuredly not the word Thor would use at the moment, but he did feel relieved. At least now he could look his brother in the eyes, he thought—and yet, despite the gown shielding Loki’s skin from his eyes, still his face felt hot, a sensation that only grew worse the longer he met Loki’s expectant gaze. 

“Well?” Loki demanded. “What was so important you had to break down my door?” 

“Right, of course,” Thor replied, wracking his mind. “Well—”

It was urgent, wasn’t it? He knew it involved magic, but the longer he stood before Loki, the more it eluded him. Instead, he felt his mind drift to some weeks back, when his brother first returned to Midgard—that he had left as a boy, how he returned somehow as a man, and with the desires of one. How his brother had intimated, in this very apartment, in this very room, however cautiously at first, that they might now explore a more _nuanced_ interpretation of their relationship.

Unfortunately, this meant Thor was forced to recall the manner in which he had responded, nothing he would consider graceful, nor _dignified_. The matter had not come up again after, and Thor—to be frank—had not permitted himself to think of it, to consider what it might mean. That even reborn anew, with so few of his memories of their past life together, Loki was still yet aware of that old and untested potential between them. That alone was staggering. 

But Loki could not know the extent of it. And he was much too young, besides. That was what he had thought, then, and that was how he had convinced himself to push the matter out of his mind.

In the moment, however, he no longer seemed capable of getting the idea out of his head. In fact, it was now all he could think about, staring at Loki before him. Staring at the narrow sliver of skin left uncovered by his brother’s dressing gown, the slight rise and fall of his chest with each breath, skin still pink and flecked with water from his shower.

 _No longer a boy indeed_ , Thor thought, dimly. 

“Thor,” Loki said again, snapping him out of his brief distraction. Enough to notice all at once how his brother’s tone had changed, that the sharp edge of anger had softened. When their eyes met once more, Loki’s expression seemed more curious than annoyed.

“Didn’t you come here to tell me something?” Loki prompted him, eyebrows curving up in question.

“Yes,” Thor replied, but still he could not seem to gather his thoughts. It only grew worse when Loki took a step closer to him, head tilted just so. 

“Did you want me to guess?” Loki murmured, not sarcastic but playful, with a small smile tugging at his mouth. As he stepped forward, the movement quickly caught Thor’s eye, as it revealed that although he may be covered, Loki had not fastened the robe entirely _closed_ , leaving exposed the line of his hip and thigh. 

“No,” Thor said, and swallowed hard. He forced himself to look away, back down towards the mess he had caused in his haste. “It’s late—I should go. The matter can wait.” 

Though Loki’s shoulders fell slightly, his expression did not dim. If anything, Loki smiled warmer still, exhaling in a sigh. 

“If you say so,” Loki said. “And don’t worry about the door.”

Thor, having bent over to retrieve its pieces, stopped then to look back up. “Are you certain—”

Loki laughed, his fingers suddenly encased in glowing green light. A cue for Thor to stand back, and he did, something that was almost a relief in a room that had become so very warm. “I think I’ve got it. Just—give me a minute to answer next time, okay?”

Thor nodded, and he gave his word.

 

* * *

 

True indeed to that word, Thor managed not to break the door down when he next visited some days later, even if Loki yet again seemed not to hear him for some time. He waited and waited, knocking periodically. He would have left, but he could see that lights were on inside, and chose to wait at least a few moments longer before he gave up for the evening. 

The door, now magically in one piece and seemingly sterner than it was before, rattled on its sturdy hinges as he knocked one last time. And then but a moment later it opened, revealing a curious sight. 

Before him was Loki, dressed plainly as he often did on Midgard. No armor, only the simple local fashion, including a shirt Loki currently wore loose and unbuttoned nearly to his belly. Thor stared for a moment in confusion, feeling a sudden flash of restless nerves. Had he interrupted another shower, perhaps? But the lights in Loki’s apartment behind him were strange also, low and warm and flickering like fire. 

Magic, Thor assumed, though at first it made no sense.

“Thor,” Loki sighed, leaning against the door as if strength had left him entirely. “Would it kill you to send a text first? A raven. Anything.”

Before Thor could fully register the meaning of the words, the tableau behind his brother finally came into focus. And at once he understood his mistake.

“Oh, hello Thor,” called a familiar voice, cloying and sweet, one that rustled a series of unpleasant memories. Indeed, it was Lorelei upon Loki’s couch, reclining back with comfortable ease, a glass of wine in hand—and barely dressed. There were other details he processed on the periphery; candles suspended in midair, what appeared to be flower petals on the floor and coffee table. But Lorelei winked at him, and instantly Thor’s eyes dropped away from the display entirely.

“Loki—” Thor felt himself nearly growl, only loud enough for his brother’s ears. Loki at least had the decency to look pained along with his embarrassment. 

“Normally I would love to say this isn’t what it looks like,” said Loki. “But—really, compared to the other possibly nefarious explanations, I’m thinking you’ll be more relieved to know it is exactly what it looks like.” 

“You would be correct,” Thor hissed then, through clenched teeth. “Lorelei? _Really_?” 

Rather than argue with him, Loki only nodded. “I know, I know. It’s—complicated? We have history—what I remember—and there are some unresolved, uh, issues—” He ran a hand down his reddened face. “Look, I understand if you’re angry, I do—”

Anger, yes. Anger was…one of the feelings tightening his chest and belly. But there was something else, a pinprick of hurt he could not account for. 

And it was that feeling, above all the others, that compelled his next words. “Loki, I thought…”

But whatever he had intended to say, it would have to wait. The sound of Loki’s bedroom door opening drew his attention, and Thor felt himself trail off, frowning with vague recollection. Before him, Loki looked pained anew. 

“What happened?” said Sigurd, the Ever Glorious, who stepped from the bedroom in nothing but an open bathrobe. Loki’s, if memory served. Thor remembered it quite specifically, and could not help but think it looked better on its owner. “What did I miss? Oh.”

Sigurd met his eyes with a full body jolt, rushing to tie the robe closed. Even after, Sigurd’s body swayed with a restless energy—odd, for the first hero of Asgard, as if he were struggling with the urge to dart back into the bedroom. 

“Uh. Hey there, Your Highness,” he said, awkwardly. “How’s it going?”

Loki, by then, had his face fully in both hands, breathing deep and steady. Perhaps it was time to spare them both any further indignity. 

“Sigurd,” Thor replied, dipping his head in acknowledgement. And, after a beat, he did the same for Lorelei. “I should probably take my leave,” he added, and though he intended it for Loki’s ears only, he heard Lorelei huff in protest.

“Are you sure you have to go so soon? Really, I think our little party could fit one more,” she called, with her eyes flashing in a dangerous manner, precisely aimed in Loki’s direction. “Loki, _you_ don’t mind if he stays, do you?” 

Thor cared not for her tone nor the insinuation, though it made his heart pound with something uncertain and wanting. Sigurd responded before he could, shushing Lorelei with a mortified sound. 

Well—Thor heard him do so, anyway. His eyes, however, had once more found Loki’s across the narrow threshold into his apartment. Loki, who had not once turned to his guests since Thor had arrived, and seemed to have shed his initial embarrassment like an unnecessary skin. His green eyes had gone half lidded, as though thoughtful; he was leaning against the frame of his door again, and his lips curved into a small, familiar smile as Thor stared.

“My brother is welcome in my home anytime he pleases,” said Loki, low and very warmly. “But it appears he has somewhere else to be tonight.” 

It was strange, Thor realized, how he had not even felt his feet moving until that moment. But his breath escaped him with a shudder, and he sheepishly stepped away from Loki’s door with a hasty apology and farewell. 

As he walked down the hall, he heard Sigurd’s voice once more, echoing clearly. “Seriously? Was no one going to tell me _Thor_ was here?” 

It seemed to take a long time for him to reach the end of Loki’s hallway, and in that time the door did not close, Thor convinced with every step he could feel Loki’s eyes upon him. 

Or perhaps he simply wished it so.

 

* * *

 

For several days and nights thereafter, Thor found himself distracted. He rested poorly, and at times even fellow Avengers noted his almost clumsy aim with Mjolnir as he sparred. The nights he had intruded upon Loki’s privacy weighed on his shoulders, and aimless guilt also, for something else he could not bring himself to confront. All in all it was a confusing and dreadful mood, one that persisted while he searched his heart for some solution.

That was difficult, as it turned out, fraught with uncomfortably vivid imaginings. But ale helped—even if it took quite a lot before he could corral his thoughts.

And while in his cups Thor came to know one thing, so obvious he could not believe his own short sightedness. He had done his brother a great disservice, treading on his privacy as he had done, and for that he owed Loki an apology. A _real_ one, not muttered in humiliated whispers as he escaped Loki again and again.

Upon this revelation, Thor finished the last of his drink, settled his hefty bar tab, and made his way to Loki’s apartment, determined to set things right with his brother at once. Of course, first he made certain the hour was not too late, but he also kept himself from knocking too long or too hard upon Loki’s door, lest he break it once more. Even on accident. 

Loki might be home, or he might not be. It didn’t matter. Thor was committed to offering his sincere apology, with respect, and not imposing upon his brother unnecessarily. He knocked once, gave it a few moments, exhaled, and turned away to leave. 

It was fine, he told himself. He could try again upon the morrow, if his resolve had not flagged. 

From behind him, the door clicked open. Thor twisted around at the sound, and at the sight of him Loki sighed with exasperation. “You’re killing me here, Thor,” he said, and though Thor felt a flash of embarrassment, the words seemed fond as well. “Have you been drinking—?”

He had, but not as much as he could have, so Thor waved that question away, focusing instead on the important matter. “I do not wish to intrude upon you again, though…that is why I am here,” he said. He stepped closer, and although Loki did not move to invite him inside, his expression was not unwelcoming. Loki leaned against the door where it cracked open, a curious warmth radiating from him as he waited. The door was only open by spare inches, but it was enough for them to speak, and Thor did not desire to pry. 

“I have only come this day to apologize to you, truly, for how I have imposed upon you and disrupted your privacy these days past,” he said. 

A strange, wry look passed over his brother’s face, but he smiled anyway. “Like now, huh?” Loki said, clearly intending to tease him, but Thor felt another rush of guilty embarrassment.

“I mean to say as well that I will take greater care _not_ to intrude—”

Loki laughed, and waved his hand, smiling still. Although it was difficult, Thor let himself relax, put at ease by Loki’s demeanor. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s just bad timing. But look, we should talk later—”

Movement caught Thor’s eye, then. A shadow that passed over Loki’s shoulder, what he could see of it with the door so narrowly opened. It may not be much, but he could see enough. 

Loki’s coffee table, for instance, and the two wine glasses set upon it. Embarrassment and dread clenched in Thor’s chest, thinking of Lorelei—perhaps Sigurd?—but before Thor could apologize profusely and make his exit, that shadow moved again. Movement in the form of a familiar figure attempting to climb through Loki’s window and onto the fire escape outside. 

“Fandral?” Thor called out, his eyes narrowed. “What are _you_ doing here?” 

 

* * *

 

It had been some twelve hours since Loki had gone missing. For Loki, that was not so unusual, but what had made this event concerning was the presence of one Verity Willis at the Avengers tower, claiming that he had been in fact taken from his apartment by robots, and that she had witnessed it.

Loki taken, and likely by Doom, now missing for nearly a day. Verity had been quite distraught, and Thor felt much the same. This exact scenario had long been his greatest fear—that Loki, innocent as though he might now be, may yet become drawn into the machinations set into motion in his previous life. Worse still, that old foes or even villainous allies might see Thor’s newly young and limited brother as the perfect proxy by which to exact some revenge upon Loki’s former self. 

It was a nightmare, one he had ample time to think on over and over as he travelled the great distance to Latveria. When he came upon the castle of Victor von Doom, alighting upon its highest turret with all the fury of the storm, it was in fact a great relief to set himself upon Doom’s army of mirror images and see them crumple and melt under the force of his anger and lightning. 

As enraged as he was, it was quick work for Thor to break through Doom’s defenses—not to mention his walls. Thor saw no sense in wasting time looking for a door when he could simply make one, and so crashed with resounding thunder through the broadest side of the castle itself.

When Thor lifted himself from the resulting rubble, he thought at first perhaps he had damaged his head in the impact, for the sight before him made little sense. 

He had found Loki, though a different one than he had been searching for. This one wore her hair long, her lips painted dark, and her clothing fine. _Much_ finer and inappropriately tailored than seemed practical for a hostage, Thor felt. 

Seated at a long dinner table in Doom’s grand hall, across from the monarch himself, Loki stared at him in mute shock. Likewise, Thor felt dumbstruck as he took in this absurd visual, realizing even as he did so that he had not seen Loki’s female aspect in some time. Certainly not since Loki had been restored to him. 

She looked—different than he recalled, but lovely still, a face he would instantly recognize as familiar to his eyes and his heart. 

Thor realized as well, seconds later, how quiet the room had become only when his sometimes-sister took a deep, measured breath. From the other side of the table, Doom cleared his throat. 

Instantly, Thor leapt to his feet. 

“Is there something I can _do_ for you, Thunderer?” Doom asked, droll. 

Thor barely glanced at him in response, though he held Mjolnir aloft and pointed toward Doom where he sat.

“You may stay put. But as my sister appears unharmed, I will do you and your land no further damage, Doom,” he declared. Staring only at Loki, he saw as her brow furrowed in confusion below her crown. 

And although he was not yet certain why, Thor felt his heart begin to sink in dread. 

“Thor…” she said, narrowing her eyes. “What are you _doing_?”

Oh, _Norns_. Thor swallowed heavily, his arm lowering just by inches where he held Mjolnir. 

“I thought—I was rescuing you,” he said, attempting to project confidence he no longer felt. 

Seated before him, Loki seemed to pale. “Um,” she said. “Rescue?” 

Thor frowned; that sinking feeling was starting to feel greatly more acute. “Your friend, Verity Willis…” he began. “She claimed you had been taken from your residence by robots—”

“Oh, _no_. Thor, there’s been a terrible misunderstanding—”

They were speaking over each other then, louder and echoing in the large hall. Thor, with growing agitation and alarm, could not get himself to stop. 

“—and Stark traced your electronic device to Latveria—”

“I’m sorry, what? You tracked my _phone?_ ” Loki exclaimed, jumping to her feet in a flash. 

“I thought I was saving you from harm!” Thor countered, now yelling in return. Though he had by then dropped his hand away from pointing at Doom, out of the corner of his eye, Thor saw him sigh heavily and take a deep sip of wine. 

And in front of him, Loki dragged her fingers down her face in frustration.

“Thor. Please. Didn’t we _just_ have a conversation about you respecting my privacy more? Like a _week_ ago?”

Thor paused for only for a moment. He did recall that, yes, though the exact details were somewhat fuzzy. And there was a far more pressing matter at hand. 

“Loki, if you are not a hostage, why are you _here?_ ” he demanded, feeling his volume rising and having little control over it, with that sensation of dread and terror gripping him fully. 

In that moment, he was no longer able to ignore the possibility that Loki might indeed be in Latveria for nefarious purposes. To think that Loki might be flirting once more with villainy such as Doom was horrifying. Thor could only think of how proud of Loki he had been, to see how she avoided the seductive call of her former life. He had known full well how tempting such a path would be to Loki, whose very nature was called to chaos and thrived in it—all the more reason to appreciate her strides to resist. 

Until tonight, it seemed! Thor felt absolutely wretched, despairing over how he must have failed her. If she was no prisoner, then _what_? 

Loki took a breath, jaw working silently for just a moment. 

“Um,” she began. “I was thinking dinner, mostly. Though there was some talk of a show.” 

From behind him, Doom chuckled into his wineglass as he drank. Thor did not turn to look. He stared at Loki, desperately to understand her meaning, for it could not be as simple as what was implied. 

“Sister—this is some ploy, is it not?” Thor said— _begged_ , really—and took a step closer to where she stood. “You cannot mean to tell me this is as it seems.” 

Loki, having gone so pale before, flushed red, squirming with discomfort under his scrutiny. “ _Well_ ,” she said, chewing her lip.

“Loki!” Thor cried in horror. 

And in a flash, her embarrassment turned to outrage, and she came around the table to meet him squarely. “No, Thor, you do _not_ get to judge me for who I spend time with in my personal life, not after _you_ rejected _me—_ ”

An awful screech echoed in the grand hall, a sound Thor briefly thought had come from himself, so dizzy with shock he was. But the sound had come from behind him, and so he looked to see Doom standing away from the table. His great chair had left scores on the stone floor, evidence of the force exerted as he stood.

“I believe I’ve had enough entertainment for the evening,” Doom said then, his discomfort palpable, even with his robotic visage. 

“Shut up, you,” said Loki. “The wine was enchanted anyway. I need to have a chat with my _idiot_ brother.” 

Doom hesitated for a moment, looking from Loki down to his glass. “You—you cannot use your sorcery on _Doom_ in this manner—!” 

He sounded certain of that, but as Thor watched, Doom grew unsteady on his feet and quickly collapsed back into his chair. Moments later, his head lolled forward, and fell still. 

Immediately, Thor’s gaze darted back to his sister, who shrugged.

“Might’ve been nanobots, actually,” she said. “Same difference on him.”

Thor stared. “Why?”

Again, Loki shrugged. “Insurance policy. Didn’t really think I’d need to use it, but he is still… well, a supervillain.” 

At that, Thor recalled that they had indeed been in the middle of a conversation but a minute ago. Angered anew at the reminder, Thor deposited Mjolnir with force on the table beside them,  hearing the wood crack loudly. 

“Yes,” he agreed stiffly. “He _is_ a villain. That was precisely my _point_ , Loki! What did you expect to get out of this?”

“Maybe second base? But probably—”

“ _Loki!_ ”

“—not further. Gods, Thor, _what_?” Loki huffed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. 

Taking a steadying breath, Thor rubbed his suddenly throbbing temples. “You are saying such things only to upset me,” he said miserably. 

In response, Loki’s eyes positively flashed. She crossed her arms over her chest, staring up at him defiantly. 

“Why shouldn’t I?” she demanded. Loki was not notably smaller in stature in this form, but without the layers of her coat or armor, Thor felt painfully aware of every difference to her male aspect. Every difference to his own form as well; how slight, how soft. 

When he could not immediately answer, Loki continued. “You do remember last week, don’t you? How you apologized for showing up at all hours _all the time_ and promised you’d stop?”

That was familiar, yes, but Thor frowned, for he suspected she was not done. 

“And then, not even a minute later, you barged into my apartment, threatened to beat Fandral up for having a drink with me, told me how great I am and that I could have anyone I wanted—except apparently Fandral—then passed out on my couch all night?”

That part felt less familiar. Though Thor could recall that he _had_ awoke alone last week in Loki’s apartment, that he had left at dawn, and had been far too embarrassed to speak of it or question the fuzzy details of his memories. While he struggled, Loki added, ruthlessly, “You still snore like a bilgesnipe, by the way. I barely got any sleep.” 

The memory had somewhat of a deflating effect. Thor sighed deeply. “But… _Doom_?” he managed. “Are you not still seeing—”

“Who? Sigurd and Lorelei?” Loki asked, eyes narrowed. 

“…Fandral?” Thor offered, weakly, as though the very idea did not still confuse and annoy him beyond all measure. 

It appeared to be the wrong thing to say, for at once Loki huffed in frustration. She looked away from him, scowling then. 

“Well you know what, turns out people don’t really return my calls if there’s a chance my brother is going to show up and crash the party,” she said, more quietly than he expected, before gazing up at him with her eyes so very green and bright. 

“Loki…” he murmured, but she spoke over him before he could find the words to continue.

“What do you want from me, Thor?” she spat, though the words held less venom than she likely intended. “Who can I be with? Who will you _let_ me be with? You did say I could have anyone, or is it only people _you_ approve of? How’s your noble friend Steve doing these days—would you find _that_ acceptable?” 

Knowing full well now that Loki was trying to provoke him, Thor did not allow himself to rise to the bait. Instead he reached for her, clasping her slender shoulder in his hand. The contact all at once felt like a mistake, but one he was prepared to accept. Loki’s gaze darted from his hands to his face, thoughtful. He noted indeed that her eyes still flashed dangerously, as she stepped closer to him in a grand room that felt awfully claustrophobic. Her gown was striking, if upsettingly revealing; it seemed to have no reasonable place to hide a weapon—but that had never stopped her before. Thor had always liked that about her. 

“You told me you weren’t interested,” she said, then bitterly laughed. “Actually, no, you didn’t _tell_ me anything. You just flew out of my window in a panic when I asked if I could kiss you. What’s a girl to think, Thor? Why shouldn’t I try to move on?” 

Thor gazed down at her in silence, a terrible ache inside him. He had done that. He remembered it quite painfully and it seemed he was not the only one. He regretted it then, the cowardice of it, and that he had made no attempt to make it right, nor tender her a proper answer.

Even now, to his great shame, he had none to offer. 

“I do not know what to say,” he admitted, after a time, his voice soft. 

Loki only laughed, bitter still. 

“It’s fine,” she lied, plainly enough that even he could see it. “We need to leave before Victor wakes up anyway.”

“‘ _Victor_ ’?”

“Oh, quiet.” Loki looked away from him, her lips twitching with a barely-suppressed smile. “Just get us home.” 

Though he did not speak it, Thor found he quite liked the sound of that. 

 

* * *

 

For some time, Thor did indeed manage to keep himself from dropping by Loki’s apartment unannounced. Or at all, really. But it was nothing to be proud of. He knew, unfortunately, that he had kept his distance not purely out of respect for his brother’s privacy. 

To his great shame, he knew himself to be afraid. Afraid to face Loki after the discomfort of their last meeting, the questions his brother had raised between them, and of his own answers. That which he could not bring himself to voice. 

For more than a week he alternated nights between his quarters with the Avengers and in Asgardia, hoping physical distance may help. Instead, his thoughts upon the matter of his brother only grew more pronounced in separation; he often caught himself wondering about Loki, what he might be up to—particularly without so many untimely interruptions. 

Probably nothing good, Thor thought, with a fond smile.

These thoughts often left him sleepless. Alight with nervous energy, he tossed and turned alone in his bed, something buzzing in his blood with enough strength to rival his lightning, the same powerful potential he felt but could do nothing with.  

On one such night, Thor gave in to temptation. It was late, and although he knew better, he walked for miles, letting his feet take him far from the Avengers Tower, and to the streets overlooked by Loki’s apartment. 

He knew these streets well. In truth he had given in to this temptation more than once, though he had not yet known how to qualify the desire, and had not lingered. 

Thor told himself this night as well, that he would not do so. He would walk on the street for a while, as it seemed to help, with nothing but the cool night air and few civilians to trouble him. He would walk for a time and then return, he imagined, to his room at the tower. 

Maybe he would sleep, though he doubted it. It was not difficult to imagine another long night, his thoughts churning and treacherous, so painfully aware of the weight of his own hands against his sheets and his belly and—

—far above him, the lights were on in Loki’s apartment. 

If he took the stairs or he flew, Thor could not remember. He found himself at the threshold of his brother’s residence with his thoughts jumbled and racing. 

It occurred to him, again and again as he stood there, that he should simply leave. 

He hadn’t knocked yet. He could go, and Loki need not know he came at all. The interior of the apartment seemed quiet, but the lights were still on, just barely visible under the door. 

But, Thor thought also, if he _did_ stay, and he _did_ go inside… They could speak, perhaps. He would like that. Maybe it would even ease some of his troubling thoughts, set his mind to rights for the first time in many days. 

He knew he shouldn’t, but he did. When he rapped upon the door, his touch was light. Hoping—foolishly—that if Loki were occupied, he might miss the sound entirely, and Thor could leave without an excuse to loiter.

A few moments passed in silence. Thor waited, feeling strange and anxious, hoping and dreading all at once that Loki would not answer; he was not sure, himself,  what he would do if Loki did. In the end he waited for some time, and did not once move to leave, until at last he heard the door unlock. 

The door slid open slowly, revealing his brother to him, and for a moment the sight of his face twisted inside Thor like a knife. It was but for a flash, frustration and hope and resignation, and then Loki simply sighed. 

“We’re doing this again, huh?” he asked, running a hand over his face. And it was then that Thor saw the odd state of his clothing, rumpled and loose, a flush on his cheeks, and the knife cut ever deeper. 

“I—I apologize,” Thor said at once. “If you have company—”

Loki tilted his head, a curious look crossing his face. “What? No, I—” he started, then broke off to shake his head. “There’s no one here. C’mon in.” 

At the words, Loki stepped away from the door, letting it slide open in invitation. Although there was a rough quality to his brother’s voice he did not recognize, it was not unwelcoming, and so Thor did take the last few steps to cross the threshold. 

With the sound of the door closing behind him, Thor realized that for all his endless thoughts, he’d never determined exactly what he wanted to _say_. He kept his jaw clenched as he moved to the center of Loki’s living room, trying at once to focus on something useful before he faced his brother again.

And as he turned, he noted how Loki did not move to join him, standing by the door even after it was closed. 

They were alone indeed, it seemed. Thor tried not to be relieved about it, given that the thought also invoked a thread of fear in him. The living room was dimmed, but from Loki’s bedroom, a warm stripe of light streamed between them where they stood apart. 

“So, what’s up?” said Loki, and although his tone seemed very casual, his eyes were unfocused, his attention distracted. “I’d remind you it’s late, but…whatever, I’m awake.”

Right, yes. Thor nodded, taking a breath.

“I have been thinking,” he murmured. “About the words we exchanged—before. In Latveria.” 

Loki laughed, almost more of a huff, and again Thor felt such terrible regret. 

“Yes, that _was_ fun,” he said dryly, looking down at the ground between them. He crossed his arms over his midsection, swaying just so, as though restless. “What about it?”

Although there was more Thor wished to say, he found himself falling silent, distracted by Loki’s strange manner, his disheveled and anxious state. Except this time, the observation unsettled him, and as Thor moved to close the gap between them, his observation grew sharply into something like recognition.

“I wanted—” Thor began, and tried to force himself to focus. “I wanted…”

He heard himself trail off, losing the thread. Loki looked up at him in confusion, and Thor noted as well the wide dilation of his eyes, that his brother’s pupils were nothing but thin slivers of green. 

Thor took a breath, absorbing each detail in the sudden silence, his breath held in his chest.

He wasn’t sure how he knew. He could see how Loki’s chest rose and fell, his cheeks still flushed, and then even redder once Thor stepped closer. The apartment was otherwise empty, and although Loki had said he was alone before, Thor could again not help but see how his clothing seemed in disarray, as though he had dressed in a hurry, that his trousers were unfastened, and— _oh_.

Thor flushed at once in understanding, his gaze darting away. 

“I apologize,” he said, the words escaping him somewhat hoarsely. “I’ve intruded upon your privacy yet again. I will leave you.”

Although Thor moved at once to do so, Loki was between him and the door—and he made no similar move to get out of the way. All at once, his brother’s mood seemed quite different; his face cautious and unreadable, his gaze steady where he met Thor’s eyes, tongue darting out against his lower lip absently. 

“You don’t have to,” Loki said, very softly. Thor stared down at him as he spoke, and his throat went dry. “You could stay. If you want.” 

“Loki…” Thor whispered in protest, but he did not move, even though he knew Loki would not stop him if he tried. 

“I _want_ you to stay,” Loki said again, insistent now. “You do understand that, right?”

He did. Thor felt his chest tighten, and he nodded in a tight, controlled movement. He knew. At the sight, his brother huffed a strange laugh, sounding exhausted.

“I wasn’t shy about it, was I? Except then, I figure you’re not interested, and there I was trying to move on, but—” Loki sighed. His shoulders fell where he held himself. “I suppose with anyone else… I’m only passing the time.” 

Thor listened without interrupting him, nor indeed moving at all or breathing until his head was nearly spinning. He wanted to say something. He wanted to speak and to move and he wanted—

Oh, he _wanted_. To even acknowledge it to himself in the privacy of his own mind felt overwhelming, the acknowledgement of what potential existed between them, and that he too longed to explore it, even after all this time. _Especially_ after all this time, when it made no sense to waste the days open to them yet again. 

Thor wanted to stay; to close the gap between them, to let Loki kiss him as he had once asked. To kiss Loki himself, crushing his brother with care against whatever surface could hold them, to leave him breathless and weak and satisfied. He wanted all of these things—more, even, but with an intensity that frightened him. 

And so he shuddered, and he hung his head. “I do want to,” he admitted then, both to Loki and also himself, in a way he could not escape, for the first time. It was both painful to speak the words, to hear them out loud, but freeing also, which he had not anticipated. “I do want—to stay here. With you.” 

But he did not move closer. There was a line, as visible to him as the beam of light cutting the floor between them, one he could not bring himself to cross. 

As if from a miles away rather than inches, Thor heard Loki sigh. 

“But you’re not going to,” Loki said, his voice flat, the words final. 

Thor exhaled. “No,” he agreed. “I cannot.”  

“Oh, you _can,_ ” Loki said, wearily. “You _won’t_.”

On that matter, Thor didn’t argue with him. Semantics and word play were his brother’s game, not his, and it was clear he now needed to leave. Even if it hurt, and it did, lurching into movement and walking around Loki’s smaller frame. Their shoulders did not so much as brush, and still Thor felt the warmth of him, the invitation he radiated, even in anger. 

The door was only steps away, and Loki made no move to stop him, not until Thor felt the doorknob twisting in his hand. He heard his name, barely over a whisper, and stopped moving as if struck. 

“Do me a favor, brother,” Loki called to him. “Give me some space. I mean it this time. Please.”

Without looking, Thor nodded stiffly, and he left. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise it gets nasty from here :') the second half is done and being edited, should hopefully be up this weekend!
> 
> also please enjoy this [amazingly seductive art](http://shineonloki.tumblr.com/post/181413733378) of Loki in his fashionable threesome getup, courtesy of @shineonloki.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If I kiss you now,” Loki said, and watched Thor’s eyes widen ever further. “Are you going to fly out the window again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shenanigans don’t stop with these two, but at least someone gets what they deserve.

“I still feel terrible,” Verity groaned. 

From across the table, over breakfast at his favorite diner, Loki watched as Verity held her face in her hands. Her words were muffled, utterly miserable, and at this display, it took all of Loki’s self control to keep himself from laughing. Fond as though it would be. “What do I _do_? How do you apologize to a Norse god for sending him halfway across the planet for nothing?”

“For this particular god, drinks are probably the way to go,” Loki agreed, sensibly enough, and then let himself laugh. “And it’s very sweet that you want to—but _please_ don’t, I promise you he has greater concerns. The last thing I need is you two gossiping over coffee.”

Verity lowered her hands and gave him a wry look, clearly unconvinced by even his most winning smile. Though perhaps a little weaselly, it wasn’t a lie, so eventually she laughed as well. There was a nervous energy to it; she was still embarrassed about the misunderstanding, and it would probably take more than the words of a known liar to help her feel better.

But he, too, had more pressing concerns than the incident with Doom some weeks ago.

“Although, on that note…” he began, in the lull that followed. “I have a confession to make.”

Verity, the very best friend a trickster could have in all the realms, immediately narrowed her eyes. 

“I don’t like where this is going,” she said, suspiciously. “What did you do?”

Loki hemmed and hawed for a long moment. Although he had invited her out specifically to raise the specter of his misdeeds—some of them, anyway—he had a difficult time finding the right words.

“Well… I _may_ have spent the last few weeks messing with Thor’s head a little bit. Actually, a lot. I mean, _real_ bad,” he quickly corrected himself, before she could call him out on the lie. “A bit like shaking one of those bottled carbonated drinks? Just, over and over again, until you think the cap might explode off.” 

“Wow.” Verity stared at him for a few seconds, but then she shook her head, laughing in stunned disbelief. “That seems a little sadistic, even for you. Can I ask _why?_ Wait, do I _want_ to know why?” 

Loki shrugged; after the last few weeks, he couldn’t argue with that.

“Look,” he sighed, wistfully. “If we go at his pace, he’ll be dancing around even the _idea_ of courting me for the next hundred years, just torturing himself until he can stop thinking of me as—ugh—”

Regretting his choice of words, Loki waved a hand dismissively and returned his attention to the plate in front of him. “I just don’t have that kind of patience. Not for this.” 

There was no chance of lying to Verity about his feelings for Thor, and so he had never tried. He often felt it freeing to have a companion such as she, one who saw through him so clearly and still desired his friendship. And he never felt it as keenly as he did at that moment. Even if she then went on to complain in disgust that his cola imagery—and the hand gesture that went with it—was ‘way too sexual’ and ‘super gross’. 

But she had also chewed on her food, looking thoughtful if mildly disturbed, and asked him simply, “So why are you telling _me_ this?” 

A good question; one he had no real answer to, even hours later. He needed to tell _someone_ , he supposed, though that compulsion alone was a new and fascinating development. In any case, he certainly couldn’t tell _Thor_ , not after everything he’d put his brother through over the last few weeks. Not that he’d planned much of it—he’s no seer, that had never been one of his gifts. He could not have planned for all the times Thor interrupted his socializing and other private matters, but he had most certainly gotten as much out of each incident as he possibly could.

Particularly that spectacle in Latveria. _Ouch_. Loki wouldn’t say he felt guilty about using his feminine wiles on Thor, but he didn’t feel great about it either. Mostly because it had been so embarrassingly easy and effective. 

For all his brother’s best and noblest qualities, Thor had a long history of losing his higher brain function in the presence of pretty maidens in low cut dresses, something Loki was all too willing to exploit once the opportunity had presented itself. 

Yet as the truth came more readily to him as a weapon these days, Loki was willing to admit to himself that much of what he had said to Thor as of late was real indeed. Except for that part about letting Doom get to second base, anyway—not with those cold hands. Loki had learned that lesson in his last life and saw no need for a refresher course.

In the end, perhaps it just felt good to get it all out there. To Verity, yes, but to Thor as well. Even if it had not been for the right reasons. So he’d rattled Thor’s cage a little ( _a lot_ ), for once it was not for his own amusement, but for both of their benefit. Thor was so _tortured_ about the whole affair, it was difficult for Loki _not_ to prod and tease and watch his brother sweat, until even he felt wound up and restless from the tension of it all.

But that game was done. Loki grew tired of the waiting, the melodrama of the whole production, and would see it end, one way or another.

Thor had finally left him alone for a time (though who knows how long _that_ might have lasted), but Loki could only bring himself to wait for barely more than a week before inviting his brother over for drinks and a chance to speak.

(Was that so hard? Sending a little warning before barging in? _Norns_.)

Of course, it was all a lie. Something that became readily apparent to Thor the moment they sat together on the couch. Loki helped himself not only to a glass but to Thor’s personal space as well, pressed so close to his brother’s side he was virtually on Thor’s lap. He stopped shy of that, but only just.

Loki had planned to wait, build the tension further—maybe a _little_ —but the moment Thor had arrived, the very portrait of a man starved and desperate and (still! somehow!) fearful, Loki disposed of whatever scheme he had in mind before. 

“When you wrote that you desired to speak with me, this is not what I had pictured,” Thor said, his voice strained, knuckles nearly white where he held his drink. Despite that powerful grip, Thor surrendered the bottle without a fight when Loki took it from him, setting both on the coffee table. Broken glass and spilled ale did not sound like it would add to the mood Loki was attempting to cultivate. 

“I don’t see how that’s my fault,” Loki said, sly as he once more slithered closer. Thor _let him_ , despite the way those blue eyes darted to the door, as if considering his escape routes. But only once. Thor took a breath, and at last met his gaze, though caution clouded his expression.

“Are you not still angry at me?” Thor asked.

Loki hummed in response. He had folded himself onto his knees at Thor’s side, attempting to meet that caution with warmth. With his brother’s eyes on him, the door forgotten, Loki smiled.

“What for?” he asked innocently, though he well knew. Thor frowned, rightly suspicious, but walked into the trap anyway.

“For the—the other night—” Thor said, stumbling somewhat, and turning red at the memory. 

Loki allowed himself to laugh sheepishly, though his face felt quite warm, and that response felt less under his own control. 

“Well, Thor, you showed up at my door at two in the morning, apparently to give me bad news,” he said. “Forgive me if I was not happier to receive it, when I had hoped you were visiting me for something else.” 

Clearly their conversation that night was not all Thor was thinking about, for he flushed even deeper red, and Loki felt his smile widen. _Oh_ , he had wanted this. Knowing exactly where his brother’s thoughts must surely have wandered, Loki leaned even closer, lowering his voice. 

“I really did want you to stay,” said Loki, whisper soft. “You could have watched, if you were not interested in joining me.”

The words were intended to provoke, and they did, for Thor’s entire body shuddered against him, even as his brows furrowed in some distress. 

“Loki—”

Before Thor could again ruin the mood, Loki continued, steady in his determination. 

“Because that is the problem, isn’t it? You _are_ interested. I thought _I_ needed to move on, but it’s starting to seem that you are the one struggling with it. You desire me, and claim you have no wish to pursue me—but you turn up at my door in the middle of the night as though you are incapable of staying away.” 

Silent now, Thor stared at him, swallowing hard. 

“That being said—” Loki sighed, and took a chance to curl a hand around the curve of Thor’s shoulder. He squeezed gently, thrilling at the strength he found there, and more so when Thor did not brush him off, even after he added, “I don’t _want_ you to move on. But I also do not want to be trapped in this cycle, waiting around forever while you work through your issues.”

Unsurprisingly, Thor did not like that, and the lovely flush on his cheeks quickly took on a more agitated color. 

“Indeed,” Thor muttered unhappily. “The company you have kept of late proves that well enough.”

Ah, jealousy. Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Never a good look on either of them, despite how often they wore it. But in this, Loki could not complain about his reaction—after all, working Thor up was the _point._

And so Loki kept himself steady while Thor huffed and burned hot under his touch, waiting for his brother to take a breath.

“You say that as if I would not cast them aside for you, if you only asked,” he said, aiming for measured, though he found his insides far less than steady; his pulse was racing, a nervous energy burning in his chest. He must have been projecting the calm he desired, for Thor seemed to ease in increments as he spoke—and so he took the chance to take it further, to add, “As if I had not gone to you first.”  

Thor was staring at him again, still as a statue now, as if the sudden shift in energy between them had left him frozen. 

Frozen, but not speechless.

“Loki,” Thor said, far calmer now. “I will concede to you on that matter; you did so, I cannot deny it. But where does that leave us?” 

“Well,” Loki said thoughtfully, attempting to hide how he shivered in response to those words, “I suppose you _could_ do as you have promised—stop showing up unannounced at all hours, and allow me to lead a life apart from you…” 

Even as he said them, the words felt distasteful. He did not desire that, not at all, and found himself trailing off without intending to—until Thor, waiting still, prompted him quietly. “Or?” 

 _Or_. Yes. There was more than one path left open to them, after all. Loki smiled, sliding his hand from Thor’s shoulder to the nape of his neck, fingers threading through golden hair. 

“Be with me,” he said, in a voice as hushed as Thor’s own. “You want to think of me as a child, and an innocent. I would show you, brother, that I am neither.”

“Oh,” Thor breathed, simply. _Oh_. 

His eyes were very wide, and Loki desired at once to be even closer, though he barely dared to take the chance. He sat up on his knees, relishing the small advantage of height it gave him over his brother, leaning just so. It felt for a moment precarious, until Thor shifted, almost absentmindedly, and Loki felt a powerful hand curl around his hip. It steadied him, and it nearly burned, leaving Loki breathless with another shiver of hope. 

“If I kiss you now,” Loki said, and watched Thor’s eyes widen ever further. “Are you going to fly out the window again?” 

Thor didn’t answer him; in truth, however, Loki did not give him the chance. He did what his brother could not, and closed the distance between them, kissing Thor on his slack, open mouth with a caution he might otherwise have found laughable. Despite how much he had longed for it, his lips brushed Thor’s gently, the contact taken with such care that he barely felt it at all.

But Thor did. Thor, who did not say a word nor bolt away in terror, but inhaled sharply against his mouth at that first careful kiss, staring up at him still with wide blue eyes. Loki did not shy away from that gaze, though his own eyelids fell half lidded as he smiled.

It was a strange kiss, for the first, though Loki didn’t think he minded very much. And at least Thor was still _there_. 

The second attempt was better, if on that metric alone. Loki relaxed into it, leaning his weight against Thor’s broad body and kissing him softly, curious and waiting. Thor may not have run away, but he wasn’t kissing back yet either. 

What’s a trickster to do, Loki supposed, and brazenly licked into that open mouth. Thor shivered almost violently, a sound escaping his broad chest like a moan, a plea—one that Loki ignored, though it pained him.

Instead, he lifted himself away, and enjoyed for an instant the look of desire and confusion that twisted Thor’s red face. 

Much better. _Worlds_ better than last time, but still not enough. Loki watched as Thor’s chest rose and fell, quicker than before, and decided then what he would like to do. Leaning in again was easy, following the natural gravity he felt to be closer, to press himself fully against Thor and go in for another kiss.

It was what Thor expected, Loki noted, for he tracked the almost imperceptible tilt of his brother’s chin towards him, the sudden hitch in his breathing. Except Loki missed the mark entirely, for his aim was lower, and teased against the side of Thor’s throat with a careful brush of his lips. 

For a second, Thor froze, going so still it was almost unnerving. But after that second he shivered, tipped his head back readily, in invitation, as if not questioning at all what _Loki_ might have liked to do with that neck so beautifully exposed. There was plenty the Loki-who-was could have done. _Would_ have done, with such an adorably misguided display of trust. 

But that was another life. And in this one, the only thing Loki desired to put to Thor’s throat was his mouth. Careful still, he exhaled warmly against Thor’s sensitive skin, pressing a kiss to the spot, open mouthed and hot. Thor jerked in response, exhaling in a rush as though struck, yet still he made no move to throw Loki off, to stop him. Nothing. 

So Loki did not stop. He slowly dragged his mouth down the pulsing cord of muscle on Thor’s throat, his attention nothing but delicate, culminating in a curious and playful bite.

It wasn’t hard. It wasn’t. But everything changed. Loki hummed, teeth so carefully scraping against his brother’s skin, not even enough to leave a mark. Yet Thor gasped and shuddered anyway, and Loki found himself at once pulled up into a nearly bruising kiss, Thor’s fingers tight in his hair.

The sudden shift left him struggling to catch up, his mouth falling open in a gasp that Thor exploited in turn, so eager and desperate that Loki felt staggered from it. But Thor pulled him into his lap fully, and Loki needed no further guidance from there, groaning in shameless encouragement at the feel of his brother’s broad hands on him. 

 _Finally_ , Loki thought, over and over, even as his head began to spin. His hands squeezed tight around his brother’s shoulders, letting Thor’s strong hands in his hair and around his hips show him precisely where he was needed, and it was _perfect_. 

But eventually, with his head pounding, Loki gasped and broke away. Thor nearly whimpered in protest, and his own body echoed it without thinking. He didn’t want to stop, but he needed to; he needed to breathe, he needed… Well—most importantly, he needed to be undressed, and as quickly as possible. As difficult as it was, Loki did force himself to sit back, to not immediately launch himself at his brother even once his head stopped spinning, feeling pained at the necessity of it just to rid himself of inconvenient layers like his shirt. 

It was, in the end, worth it for the view it gave him. Thor seemed a mess to him now, so different from before, his broad chest heaving and face flushed as he watched Loki unbutton and remove his shirt. Thor seemed to be _made_ of desire, shaking and overwhelmed by everything after the time spent denying himself. 

The truth of it made Loki ache, as though pierced by his own blade. In all things, Thor was so very brave. In all things but this. 

But Loki could make it easy for him. He _wanted_ to. And he wanted it to be good. 

Though he ached to press himself against Thor once more, Loki remained where he was for a second longer, under the guise of catching his breath. It was easy enough to do, given the intensity from moments before, the kiss that had left him dizzy and his lips pleasantly bruised. Yet as Thor’s gaze distractedly fell from his mouth to his chest, Loki took the opportunity to slide his hand between their bodies, shamelessly enjoying the access granted to him by Thor’s taste in mortal clothes. Really, it was a wonder he fit in them at all. 

But just as he began his explorations, Thor abruptly caught his wrist in one powerful hand and guided it away. As disappointment flooded through him, Loki sat back and tried not to whine outright; of course Thor would change his mind here, now they’ve finally made it. Everything had been going so _well_. “Thor,” he said, frowning, “what—?”

Before he could even finish giving voice to the question, Loki stopped short. It was dawning on him very slowly, in bits and pieces, that Thor had already let go of his wrist… And that Thor had pressed that heavy hand to the front of his pants in a deliberate, exploratory stroke of his own, his intentions unmistakable. 

Whatever protest was in him but seconds ago, Loki felt it escape in a heartbeat. Instead, he stared down at Thor’s hand fixedly, every breath shallow, feeling strangely that the sight alone might be more than he could handle. Through his jeans he barely felt it at first, but he _could_ feel Thor’s eyes on him, and was helpless but to respond to the heat and weight of that gaze.

Distantly, Loki could hear the sound of his zipper slip undone, a rustle of fabric, and a sharp inhalation he recognized as his own. The only thing that seemed to filter through was that Thor’s hand was on him, gently guiding his cock out of his pants and coaxing him to hardness. Not that it took long—his new body was young, almost embarrassingly sensitive, and Thor’s hand was solid and warm and perfect around him. And Loki could not find a single reason why he should look away. 

His stomach twisting with anticipation and the first stirring of pleasure, Loki sighed shakily, reaching for Thor with both hands. He needed his arms wrapped around his brother and did so, and that it allowed him to haul himself shamelessly closer and cant his hips toward that promising grip was but a perk. 

Virtually clinging to Thor, it was difficult to look between them, but Loki still tried. He had wanted this—they _both_ had, hadn’t they?—and he wouldn’t be denied the pleasure of watching. Thor’s breath was hot against his hair, his throat, seemingly so steady where Loki felt himself fast unraveling. But being closer revealed to him that Thor’s control was tenuous at best, for he trembled, as though even now it was a struggle to let himself have what he desired. 

Well. Couldn’t have that, not after everything it had taken for them to get here. With another soft sigh, Loki surrendered his perfect view of Thor’s hand working over his cock in favor of pressing a clumsy kiss to his brother’s sweet face, the anxious line of his mouth. He wanted to say something encouraging, but his sweet words abandoned him, leaving him with only his brother’s name, muffled as it was against Thor’s mouth. He felt Thor’s breath stutter, as though in surprise, Thor’s skin flushing hot to the touch. 

That was a little better, Loki felt, and so he did it again and again; he pressed eager, distracted kisses to Thor’s cheek, the corner of his mouth, groaning his pleasure there. That Thor might know, without question, just how much he indeed enjoyed the attention, and it seemed to help. 

Slowly, so slowly, the trembling ceased entirely, and Loki felt Thor’s grip grow in confidence around his cock, finding it slicker and hotter with every squeeze. Norns, but he was so _gentle_ , almost maddeningly so. 

“Thor,” Loki said again, more urgently. It felt like a plea—for more, maybe, _tighter_ or _faster_ —but Thor seemed to misunderstand. 

“I have wanted this,” his brother said, unexpectedly, and Loki’s heart pounded in the stillness. It sounded quite like a confession, a secret, one Thor felt compelled to give while touching him so intimately. “For—some time.” 

In surprise, Loki lifted his head, meeting Thor’s eyes as he breathed unevenly between them. He knew that, of course. He’d known it in his first life, the second, and—despite that, still his body quivered to hear it whispered between them, with Thor’s hand on him, Thor’s eyes watching him so intently.

Thor squeezed him then, with his gaze caught so, and for a stunning second Loki thought he might be close indeed. He bit his lip to keep himself from crying out, Thor stroking him faster, as if spurred on by the challenge of his silence and— _oh_ —

—and that was the moment he felt the All-Mother attempt to manifest in the apartment. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Loki exclaimed, with all the refusal he could muster, but it couldn’t stop their spell. Thor knew at once something was wrong, for he drew his hand away, to Loki’s agonizing disappointment. He sat back, dragging hands over his face, his mind spinning at once with how to explain, much less how to deal with the interruption. “It’s not you, shit—I’m getting a call.” 

Well, so to speak. If Thor seemed confused or startled, it barely registered. At once, Loki could only turn his attention to the far more urgent matter at hand—the fact that their _mother_ was attempting to reach him. 

He had practiced for this—prepared for it, even—trying out various enchantments to repel their scrying, or delay it if possible, if just for seconds. He had thought it worth doing even before he set on this path with Thor, as a precaution for his other schemes, but if there was ever a time to try and block the connection, it was certainly _now_. 

With the measures he had taken, Loki could feel the All-Mother’s magic pressing into his space, seeking any flat plane. Before Thor had arrived he had covered the TV, all reflective surfaces he could think of, even put the toilet lid down if it would help, but it couldn’t last. Their power combined was far too much for his own, certainly as it was in his new body. He could not block them forever, and it would be far too risky to try. 

Loki bit back a groan, clambering off Thor in the worst agony he could imagine. Maybe not literally—but figuratively, yes. It was _torture_. On wobbly feet, he managed to get his jeans buttoned up, but that was the extent of the effort he was willing to put into it. 

“Bedroom,” he said then, gesturing weakly, and he was grateful that Thor did as he asked without question. Loki shut the door, pulling the sheet from his TV, and loosened the defenses he had placed so carefully. 

Immediately, the All-Mother manifested before him, reflected with crystal clarity in the otherwise unpowered screen. For just a moment, Loki allowed himself to fully appreciate the exquisite awkwardness of being interrupted by not only _their_ mother but Thor’s birth mother as well. Oh, what _would_ they think? 

“Loki,” came Freyja’s voice, suspicious and displeased. “It took us some time to reach you. What exactly were you doing?”

“Did it not occur to the all-powerful rulers of Asgard that _maybe_ I didn’t like seeing my mother’s face manifesting in my apartment without warning when I’m naked?” he asked dryly. 

That he had not bothered to find his shirt helped sell the lie somewhat, but it mattered little. If nothing else, the words were worth it for Gaea and Idunn’s shocked, stifled laughs, both pointedly not looking at Freyja while she gaped at him. 

Before she could chastise him further, Loki sighed loudly. “Mother, please,” he said. “I’m not screening your calls. I just needed a minute. I’m here, tell me what you need.”

Although Freyja frowned for a moment longer, she eventually seemed to decide it wasn’t worth arguing about. She sighed, and began to speak at length about a sword, yet the details quickly faded to the background of his attention. Although his eyes remained fixed on the screen in front of him, he listened instead for Thor, just a room away. 

Thor, left in a room alone with access to the fire escape. He tried not to think about it. 

In the end, the conversation was not terribly long, probably aided by his distracted state of mind. He had few questions, not enough of an attention span to make any clever comments, and so the All-Mother let him go quickly. Perhaps they sensed the potentially personal nature of his distraction, but he could worry about that later. Talking to them had taken a few minutes, if that—long enough for his blood to cool somewhat, and for dread to creep in. Behind the door, his bedroom seemed quiet, and briefly Loki felt a buzzing in his nerves that made it difficult to reach for the latch and look inside.

The room was indeed quiet, but it was not unoccupied. As Loki cracked the door open, he found Thor inside, puzzling over the covered glass on every hanging frame. The sight was a welcome relief, such that Loki could not keep himself from exhaling in a soft, shivering sigh. 

Thor turned at the sound, his lips pulling into a small smile, and Loki felt a heavy ache inside just to look at him. 

Alone together again, Loki found himself uncertain of what to say. The interruption had been—unfortunate. On a number of levels, some more painfully intimate than others. He had thought Thor might lose his nerve and simply leave, and though he hadn’t, the possibility remained. That perhaps with his head clear, Thor might remember all the reasons they shouldn’t go down this path together, even though he had admitted to wanting it.

Weighed down by such thoughts, Loki felt the silence stretch, until finally Thor gestured towards the living room.

“The All-Mother?” he asked, quietly. 

Although Loki feared that even acknowledging that fact might be enough to scare Thor off, he couldn’t easily avoid the question.

“Yes,” he admitted. “Something about Dainsleif, retrieving it, that kind of thing.”

Thor nodded, and was quiet for another moment. “Do you need to leave?”

Again, Loki hesitated, trying to read Thor’s intent behind the question. If, perhaps, his brother was looking for an excuse to go. Eventually, Loki shrugged. “I think so,” he said. “But—later. It’s not urgent, I have a little time.”

Which meant they could continue, he wanted to add. Yet he felt strangely useless, standing in his _bedroom_ with Thor at long last, talking about cursed swords when he would greatly prefer to be doing something else. Getting a conference call from their mother had clearly dampened the mood, as much as he still felt a low, simmering hope that they could pick up where they left off. Rekindle what had been so rudely interrupted, if it wasn’t now too late. 

So he watched Thor instead, desiring greatly to move closer, nearly swaying with the strength of it. But his feet felt heavy, and he stayed put, until at last his brother smiled at him warmly, reaching for him. 

“Later it is, then,” said Thor. 

Loki exhaled suddenly at that in a long, shivery sigh, his head a rush of emotions—relief and lust and nervousness, such that it was hard not to immediately launch himself at Thor. Instead, he smiled tentatively and took a step forward, small at first—but Thor’s hand remained extended, patiently waiting for Loki to approach.

“I thought you might have left, given the opportunity,” Loki said, somewhat to his own surprise. He regretted it, for just a second, yet Thor welcomed him still. The arm that had been extended to him soon became wrapped around him, and Loki eagerly let himself be pulled even closer.

As he did so, Thor shook his head, growing flustered. “It was shameful enough the first time,” he replied. “I could not do that to you again.”

Loki wanted to agree, really—except, in fairness, he _might_ have gotten more than his fair share of revenge for the offense. But with Thor holding him, guiding him in closer to be kissed, he couldn’t help but feel as well that it had worked out just fine. 

With Thor’s arms around him, it was easy to forget the trials that had brought them here, the teasing and torment, and think only about what could come next instead.

Or feel it, even; as Thor held him tight and kissed him, Loki could feel the stirring of his brother’s interest against his belly. The very suggestion was enough to send his heart pounding, his throat running dry, and any sense of shame out the window. 

As much of the latter as he had ever had, anyway. Loki grinned when Thor broke their kiss to gasp, but he hadn’t pulled very far away, and not nearly enough to escape the hand Loki had snaked between them to grope and squeeze. And so he did it again, watching through hooded eyes as Thor flushed red—again and again, in fact, until that look of startled embarrassment warmed into something else entirely. 

“Loki,” Thor breathed, though he sounded steadier than he looked. Loki grinned wider, palming Thor so brazenly through his clothing, delighting as his brother’s body twitched and responded in turn. 

“Yes?” Loki prompted him, when no other words came. 

Thor still did not speak, not yet, though he drew another breath as Loki stroked him. It was teasing, nothing but soft, a thrilling contrast to the heat and hardness but a thin layer of mortal material away from his careful touch. 

Holding his breath, Loki’s eyes darted between them, imagining the feel of his brother in his hand properly. The desire before the action, he mused. Taking a thought and making it real. Magic, just like that.

Loki smiled to think of it, and then his breath escaped him in a sharp exclamation as Thor unexpectedly grabbed him by both shoulders. His gaze shot back up immediately, and although he couldn’t quite read the look on Thor’s face… Loki found that he wasn’t particularly worried about the abrupt change in mood.

Maybe it was because of before—that heady moment before their mother called, for as Thor began to guide him back bodily towards the bed, Loki only felt the fire inside him grow brighter, hotter. The backs of his thighs hit the edge of his bed in a hard, sudden stop, and Loki felt his throat go dry. 

 _Yes_ , he thought at once, and tried to speak the same, but the only sound to escape him was little more than a whine. With words failing him, Loki nodded his assent instead; quick, jerky movements that only just preceded Thor tipping him back against the mattress itself with enough force to send Loki’s heart racing. 

Loki fell back against the bed with a small bounce, as well as a soft squeak he’d very much like to pretend came from the mattress. He recovered quickly enough, laying back in an inviting sprawl, but Thor did not immediately join him. His brother stood still beside the bed, close enough to see how his face was flushed, how his chest rose and fell heavily with each breath.

It was a beautiful sight, it was. Even still, Loki wanted to tease Thor for his hesitance, accuse him of getting cold feet and watch his brother jump defiantly to the challenge. But the lie seemed unfitting, for there was no denying the open desire in Thor’s eyes, the slight shudder that ran through his massive frame as he restrained himself. 

If anything, Thor seemed…thoughtful, more than reluctant. And so Loki did not tease him. Instead, Loki felt content to wait, to see what _those_ thoughts could make real. To finally know what Thor had desired, over these many years, from Loki’s first life to the next; all that his brother had convinced himself he could never have. 

Sure enough, seconds later, Thor did snap out of his distraction, and when he looked to Loki, his expression was nearly plaintive.

“I want this to be good for you, Loki,” Thor said, his blue eyes so wide. “What would you have of me?”

Oh. That was a question, and not one Loki had expected. At first Loki stared at him, a nearly painful shiver running through him at the words. He wanted so _many_ things; even now, desires from a thousand years ago called to him, some dark and some cruel—but all, he found, under his brother’s earnest gaze, were easier to ignore than he would have thought. What he wanted here and now need not be so complicated. 

“Will you…” Thoughtfully, Loki trailed off. But only for a moment. He considered what he wanted and smiled, biting his lower lip as his gaze swept over Thor’s entire body. When he looked up to meet Thor’s eyes once more, his smile had gone from warm to nakedly hungry. It was something even Thor did not miss, for he grew flustered under that long, lustful examination. “Will you undress for me?”

Thor exhaled in a soft laugh. His feet shifted where he stood for a second, a breath—then slowly, he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head. The material was already drawn so tight it left Loki mildly breathless to contemplate, and he was quite impressed that the shirt then made it off of Thor’s body in one piece. Perhaps it would not have, had he been the one to remove it. 

“I believe you have seen me undressed before,” Thor murmured. There was a playful note to the words, teasing, even as he continued to strip, and Loki watched with rapt attention from where he reclined. 

Loki smiled crookedly, and shivered at the sight. “Don’t recall,” he said. “You’ll need to refresh my memory.” 

“Is that so?” 

As he spoke, Thor’s hands fell to the front of his pants, a path Loki watched with his heart suddenly racing. Pounding, even, by the time that last layer began to peel away.

“There are _so_ many holes in my memory, brother,” he continued, eager to keep the game up. If he sounded somewhat unsteadier, Loki didn’t let that stop him. “You can’t blame me for that.” 

Okay, he did feel a _little_ bad about that lie, but it was worth it for the sight unfolding before him now. His breath went thin as Thor stood at last nude before him, so terribly beautiful. It took him a beat to remember how to speak at all, much less recall the thread of their conversation. 

“Besides,” Loki said eventually, swallowing hard as Thor smiled down at him. “I don’t believe I ever saw you quite like this.” 

At that, Thor’s expression turned from playful to—something else, almost unreadable, but strangely Loki did not feel as though he had made a misstep. Thor’s brilliant blue eyes went dark, narrowed in concentration.  

“Indeed,” Thor said, his voice now rumbling and low. “You did not.” 

Loki thought for a moment, just one, that perhaps he should be afraid. He didn’t recognize the register of Thor’s voice, the look in his eyes, and he didn’t know what it meant. It should have been frightening. 

Thor advanced towards him where he laid, and Loki inhaled sharply at the sight, but the fear didn’t come. There was only heat, a sharp and desperate need twisting in his belly as Thor approached the edge of the bed. 

And he kneeled. Thor, with all his power and all his beauty, went to his knees at the side of the bed in one fluid motion, and pulled Loki towards him as though he were weightless. 

“Oh—” Loki gasped, air punched from his lungs with the force of his own arousal. His bedding, normally quite soft to the touch, scraped against his back with the sudden friction. Yet he couldn’t find it in himself to complain, not when Thor’s hands fell at once to his own remaining clothes and quickly relieved Loki of that inconvenience.  

Bare then, and plainly whimpering into the air as Thor returned to him, firmly guiding his knees apart. Loki hardly needed the assistance, but it thrilled him to watch, and so he did. He was breathing fast and hard the moment Thor dropped to his knees, even before Thor gripped his thigh with one unfairly massive hand, so large his fingers nearly wrapped all the way around, and then he could not breathe at all.

At the sight, Loki felt his eyes go unfocused. _Fuck_ , he thought, _please, please_ —

“ _Thor_ ,” he managed to gasp. He barely recognized his own voice. He didn’t even know what to say that wouldn’t be outright and pathetic pleading—for Thor to touch him, to stick it in, _anything_ , but he didn’t need to. 

Thor took the sound of his name in that tone as permission enough, leaning close to take Loki’s cock in his mouth with startling confidence. Loki’s unfocused sight abruptly went dark, his eyes screwing shut, a sob of shock and encouragement welling up in his chest. 

It was hard to process anything, at that point. There was nothing beyond the feeling of his brother’s fingers twitching around his thigh, his brother’s lips opening around him, taking him in and in to the velvety heat of his mouth, all with an ease that Loki knew at once to be too practiced for beginner’s luck. 

 _Ah_ , Loki thought. Not Thor’s first time like this, then. The sudden flash of white-hot jealousy inside was strangely grounding, for all its ugly familiarity, but he had at least come far enough in this new life to nearly laugh at his own hypocrisy rather than stew in it. 

But, Norns, he wanted to know when his brother had picked up that particular skill, and with _who_ —but perhaps it was for the best that he never did. If they yet lived, Loki wasn’t too sure they would for much longer, such was the force of lustful envy in him. It should have been _him;_ Loki should have been the one to enjoy and suffer the labors of Thor’s fumbling learning curve, but that had been denied to him. 

(And he couldn’t help but think he had every right to be jealous; in this life, _he_ had at least offered Thor the first rights to break in his new body, it was hardly his fault Thor had not taken him up on it.) 

As much as his thoughts had wandered, relaxing into the pleasure enveloping him so sweetly, Thor’s clever attentions quickly brought him back to the present. Thor’s teeth grazed him, delicate yet purposeful, as if he knew why Loki had grown distracted. Perhaps he did. 

Loki gasped anew when Thor’s hand joined the fray, however briefly squeezing and stroking him in a torturously perfect pull to the crown; with a moan and a shudder, he let his jealous thoughts slip away.

Determined not to waste the opportunities _this_ life had in store, Loki propped himself up on one elbow, aching for a better view.

While he always had a grand imagination, it was clearly not grand enough, as Loki felt completely unprepared for the view waiting for him. For the sight of Thor, his face flushed, lips wet, his hair golden and spilling over his shoulder. It tickled where it brushed Loki’s inner thigh, a detail Loki barely noticed, so consumed he was with each dip of Thor’s head to take him over and over again, and every sensation that followed.

“Brother,” he whispered, almost disbelieving and uncertain, though he was not sure why. Thor seemed to take it as encouragement, for he only groaned, deep and rumbling—something Loki felt intimately—and set himself to his task with greater intensity. 

Dazed, his breath sharp and uneven, Loki simply watched. He _wanted_ to do more, wanted to press up into that soft heat, so slick and perfect, but found that Thor’s hand held him firm. That he could, in fact, barely move at all. 

He was not a creature that tolerated restraint, if he could help it. So if that grip holding him tightly in place alarmingly turned him on _more_ , well… he could worry about that later. His attention turned away from it with ease, returning instead to Thor, as if anything else could possibly matter.

And Thor… By the Nine, where to _start_. 

If Loki started to swear by every god he could name, he’d still barely have scratched the surface of his desire. Thor, crown prince of Asgard, sucked his cock as though he was _made_ for it, enveloping him fully, wet and hot and eager. It was obscene, beyond what Loki expected when he set upon this— _mostly_ well-intentioned little scheme.

Thor licked and sucked and worked him, endlessly, _beautifully_ , and Loki never wanted it to end. He watched until his eyes burned, barely blinking, his gaze darting between Thor’s gorgeous face and that grip on his thigh. It was almost firm enough to be painful, his already pale skin nearly white under Thor’s thick fingers—something he almost wished he had not noticed, for once he had, it was impossible to bite back a cry. 

Although Thor’s fingertips did not—quite—touch where Thor held his leg, the fact that it was even close was enough to turn Loki’s stomach twisting in something like fear and a _lot_ like arousal. Thor’s hand had felt powerful and almost terrifying wrapped around him earlier, his fingers so broad and blunt, and at that thought, Loki felt his higher brain function just about switch off. 

His breath going ragged, Loki’s thoughts drifted. Thor’s mouth felt incredible on him, it did, but he thought as well how much better it might feel with help. With his brother’s fingers pushing inside him, the ache and intensity of it, tipping him from moaning Thor’s name to screaming it. 

How many could he fit? In a daze, Loki wondered. It was easy enough to picture two, maybe three. He wanted to find out.

Loki scrabbled clumsily, trying to keep himself upright, and opened his mouth to do something more than gasp for once. To not just ask for it but beg if that’s what Thor might need to hear.

“Thor,” he croaked, staring down between his thighs for his brother. Oh, the sight still sent his belly twisting with heat, just watching Thor take him so readily. “Please, I need—oh—”

That feeling sharpened suddenly, a spark to an inferno, because he came to see that Thor’s other hand was already occupied. 

And all his clever words left him once again.

At the side of his bed, Thor kneeled still, his mouth engulfing Loki’s cock so perfectly, and working his own with a desperate, almost clumsy hand. 

 _Well, fuck_ , Loki thought, watching breathlessly as Thor stroked himself in rough, careless strokes, as though mindless, driven. It seemed very nearly painful, but Loki could feel how Thor gasped and groaned around his cock with an enthusiasm he could never have imagined. Quite abruptly, Loki felt himself teetering towards the edge denied to him before.

“Fuck,” he whimpered, this time aloud, and gave up on his stunning view in favor of burying his hands in Thor’s hair. To grip him, hold him and keep him. Loki felt his fingers go numb as he tightened that grip in Thor’s hair, pulling at the nape of his brother’s neck. 

For a second, he nearly regretted it, for he intimately felt Thor hiss in pain. 

But—Thor did not stop. Thor did not pull away. Instead, Thor gripped himself punishingly harder still as Loki watched, the head of that thick cock so wet and red in his white-knuckled grip, and it was far too much for Loki to endure. 

“Thor,” he hissed urgently, and tugged again at his brother’s hair. “I’m so close, please.” 

Thor heard him, he knew. Loki watched as Thor’s brow furrowed in concentration, and he felt Thor grip his leg harder, as though to keep him in place to be pleasured so intensely. 

Thor wouldn’t let him go. It shouldn’t be a surprise; not after how long they’d both waited, how much they have both wanted this. Thor took him deeper yet, until Loki could feel his brother’s throat straining around him and holding fast regardless. It was that sensation, and more—the knowledge that Thor wanted it, _loved_ it—that tipped Loki over the edge. He came impossibly hard, eyes fixed to the sight of his brother’s lips so wet and stretched around him, and chasing his release inside Thor’s mouth with a pitched gasp. 

Around that time, the world simply stopped moving entirely. Loki was grateful for it, laying prone on the bed, breathing raggedly in the aftermath. But his mouth was still moving _,_ with neither his permission nor conscious thought, still working to fill the quiet room even if all he could hear was the roar of his own blood in his ears. 

“Thor,” he felt himself say weakly, perhaps a dozen times, a hundred, lusting and grateful and desperate in turn, until his throat felt as raw as Thor’s surely must. “Oh, fuck.”

In the aftermath, Thor seemed frozen. He was red faced, dazed, his blue eyes unfocused and glassy when he at last remembered to let Loki’s cock slide out of his mouth. Close as they were, Loki could feel him shaking also, and what a sight that was. His mighty brother, that great body like a mountain, yet trembling like a leaf. 

But this time, Loki knew, it was not with fear. He saw none of that in Thor’s expression, only how Thor’s eyes fell upon him in distraction, burning with desire.

Loki swallowed hard to see him in such a state, and nearly whimpered when Thor pushed himself away and upright on shivering forearms. 

Although now abruptly alone on the bed, Loki didn’t feel cold. Even apart from him, Thor radiated such heat it was impossible for Loki to remember what cold even felt like. And for a few seconds, Thor didn’t say anything at all, appearing to collect himself. He didn’t move either, standing very still rather than join Loki on the bed—yet he was also so impossibly hard and glistening wet that Loki couldn’t get himself to look away. 

In all honesty—for whatever that was worth—in his current relaxed and satisfied state, Loki didn’t _want_ to look away. Loki wanted nothing but to invite Thor onto the bed with him, to pull him close and have him fully, _finally._ That he might very much enjoy to be claimed so, while sprawled out so pliant and eager for Thor’s pleasure. 

Oh, but he desired other things, too. Enough to think that perhaps, that particular fantasy could wait a little while longer. 

For all that he wanted, Loki needed Thor closer first. Thor was watching him, so Loki smiled drowsily and wide, his eyes half lidded as he gestured for Thor to join him.

“Come here, brother,” he whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

After a second, just a breath, Thor did. Loki rolled over gladly to welcome him, his body heavy, loose-limbed and warm. Thor groaned to watch him move so, and sharper still when Loki took his cock in hand.

Loki guided him close like that, his touch careful and teasing until Thor came to kneel before him on the bed. He thought of encouraging Thor to lay down, but decided instead he quite liked the sight. His brother was gorgeous, a flawless statue with curves Loki might explore for a thousand years and not be satisfied. Not with so much time to make up for.

And so it only made sense for Loki to approach Thor on his hands and knees, in a manner his old self would have despised yet craved in equal, awful measure. Bare and prostrated before Thor, the weight of his brother’s gaze so heavy on his skin, Loki’s cautious touch became bold.

Thor gasped above him, as though from miles away, at the first brush of Loki’s lips to his cock. It was tempting to smile at the sound, but Loki quickly became distracted with the work ahead of him. Instead he followed the strength of his desire to stroke his brother where he needed it most, kissing the underside of his length, so thick and red and heavy. It nearly burned against the palm of Loki’s hand, the crown dark and leaking. 

Drawn in, Loki kissed him there as well, open-mouthed and wet, while his thoughts raced. He wasn’t certain he could take all of it at once, it felt so large in his hand and against his lips, but he was certain he would like to try. 

At that thought, Loki did smile, his tongue darting out against his lower lip, just barely brushing Thor’s cock as he did so. He looked up, and did it again, luxuriating in his brother’s intense gaze. He allowed himself a shiver of nervous anticipation, a renewed heat throbbing inside him at the sharp taste and heat he found against his lips and tongue. 

“You really have been waiting, huh?” Loki murmured, unable to resist one final urge to tease his brother. 

In response, Thor noised some guttural plea above him, gasping like a virgin, seemingly unable to stop himself from canting his hips toward Loki’s mouth with quickly unraveling restraint. 

He had been so afraid, Loki knew. Afraid of his own desires, even though he was not alone in them, and denied himself what they could have. But no more. And now Loki wanted nothing more than to watch Thor fall apart, that he might then put Thor back together, with neither restraint or fear.  

Already, Thor’s self control seemed to slip in increments, for again he rocked his hips forward to meet Loki’s hand, his mouth. Just for a flash each time, enough to spark an answering need in Loki. 

No more teasing, then. Loki smiled up at his brother one final time, with a promise in the fond curve of his mouth, before he at last let his lips part, before he guided the tip of Thor’s cock inside. Thor stiffened, growing ever harder, though Loki could scarcely believe it. 

Unsurprisingly, even just the head of him was something of a strain. A challenge, that was all—one Loki was more than happy to meet, though he pulled back briefly to reassess. In the absence, Loki lifted a hand to squeeze and stroke him, and found Thor still wet from before, still burning to the touch. 

Norns, it must _hurt._ Loki couldn’t stand for that at all. He worked Thor with a firm and steady hand, deliberately bringing the head of Thor’s cock against his lips with each upstroke as his thoughts spun. 

This went on for only a moment or two, yet in that time Loki could feel Thor fraying at the edges, muscles quivering keep himself from thrusting too forcefully. Loki appreciated the thought, he did, particularly as he knew how long Thor had waited for his own relief. To not leave him suffering overmuch, Loki pressed another lingering, sucking kiss to Thor’s cock.

“Loki—” Thor gasped, with an edge of strained impatience Loki had not expected. 

He wasn’t teasing, he wanted to say. He was thinking, he was _planning,_ and he only needed a moment—

But that moment passed, and Loki came to understand his mistake as Thor abruptly came in long, hot spurts across his stunned, slack mouth and cheek.

 _Oh,_ he thought dimly, and, _I might have had that coming._

Maybe—just _maybe_ —he’d shaken Thor up a little more than was strictly necessary. 

Above him, cutting through the static in his ears and thoughts, Thor was making his mortified apologies, followed by the feel of his brother touching his face, as though attempting to clean him off.

The contact snapped Loki back into the moment, and he waved away Thor’s fussing with a huff. It wasn’t _that_ big of a deal, perhaps a little disappointing, but at least it hadn’t gotten into his _eyes_ —

“—Brother, truly, I am unspeakably shamed—” Thor’s words cut through his thoughts once more, or perhaps it was something in his brother’s tone that Loki found worrying enough to garner his full attention. “I promise, I will _never—_ ”

Loki did not care to find out what Thor never intended to do again. So he made sure that he would not, leaning forward without hesitation to take his brother into his mouth once more. 

And, just as he had hoped, Thor fell instantly silent, aside from an inhalation so sharp it could cut glass. Even after that, Thor said nothing, though he went very still, and therefore Loki continued. 

With Thor flagging but not yet fully soft, it wasn’t nearly as much of a task to take him inside. Not as much of a stretch; though even like this, Thor was pleasingly thick. Softening or not, it aroused Loki intensely to swallow him down, so much so that his breath came uneven and shallow, alight with sudden anxiety that Thor might make him stop. 

When Thor did no such thing, Loki took that as permission enough to keep going. He sank down with a low, encouraging groan, chasing the bitter taste that remained. Thor’s cock, even now, was enough to weigh down against his tongue as Loki started to suck him gently. 

It wasn’t the same, no, but it satisfied something inside him nonetheless. Later, Loki told himself, later he would come to know how Thor would fit inside him fully hard. Even if it took work, night and nights of practice, even if he strained and cried. It sounded like a perfectly fine plan to him, and after this day he felt confident he could convince Thor of it too. 

Like this, at least, he could take Thor completely. There was no strain at all, in fact easy enough that it quickly became gleeful as he explored and teased Thor with his tongue and lips and even—carefully—his teeth. 

At that, Thor briefly did flinch. “Loki,” he said, his voice pitched and pained, as though begging for him to stop. 

That would have been difficult, however, for Thor had come to curl his hand around the back of Loki’s head, tight and gripping, and preventing him from pulling away at all. 

Luckily, Loki didn’t want to anyway, and eventually that powerful grip dropped away. Thor moaned and shivered and twitched under the intensity of Loki’s ministrations, but he allowed Loki to do as he wished, taking every second of it, not once asking him to stop.

None of this was how Loki had pictured it, nothing like what he expected when Thor first kneeled in front of him, but he had a difficult time finding it in himself to be disappointed. Not when torturing Thor was, well, something of a lifelong speciality. And this new method was particularly entertaining; he found a great deal of pleasure in toying with Thor where he was still so sensitive, delighting in every gasp and jerk as his brother endured the onslaught of each new sensation. 

He would be quite content to keep it going for some time. He had even planned on it, keeping Thor in his mouth until his brother grew hard again there and let him feel it. It was even starting to happen, for he could feel Thor’s cock grow weighty against his tongue, if not yet increase in size. 

But as Loki licked and sucked and tormented him, Thor surprised him yet again, forcing him to change his plans. 

When he did not expect it, Thor reached for him, and this time not to grip his shoulders or pull his hair. Quite the opposite—Thor’s fingers, large and powerful enough to wrap around Loki’s wrist and crush it, if Thor so chose—instead swept gently against his temples, the crown of his head. 

His hair, he realized. Thor was playing with his hair. 

In his distraction, Loki had felt how it had become unkempt and wild, but he hadn’t given it much thought. He did now, however, as he felt Thor’s fingers comb through it, so tenderly brushing dark strands off his forehead and out of his eyes, behind his ear. It was a gesture so infuriatingly intimate that for an instant, Loki felt utterly consumed with love and exasperation. It was unbearable; Loki couldn’t bear it, he _refused_ to. 

His heart pounded so terribly, so sweetly. He had to act. He had to do something with the sudden rush of momentum inside.

Loki looked up at Thor then, at his brother’s nearly pained and painfully adoring expression, and spitefully pulled back just enough for Thor’s cock to slip half-hard from his lips. Thor winced, but continued to stare down at him quietly, confused yet transfixed. With Thor’s complete attention, Loki held his gaze and slowly, thoughtfully, took his own forefinger and slid it inside his mouth. Thor watched him, blue eyes wide and uncomprehending.

But not for long. As Loki withdrew his finger slowly, now slick and shining, he caught a flash of understanding in Thor’s eyes. Something confirmed just an instant later when Thor shifted his knees apart on the bedsheets, making room for Loki’s inquisitive hand. 

Again and again, Thor did not try to stop him. Thor _let_ him—Thor allowed even this. Loki could almost sob with stunned disbelief, but rather than fall apart at such a wildly undeserved expression of trust, he kept his attention on the task at hand, namely Thor’s cock. Wet and half hard, Loki was eager to take him again, to feel Thor thicken and stir against his tongue. His eyes slid shut, groaning in satisfaction, and explored the shape of Thor’s cock and between his thighs by feel. 

He held his breath, heart pounding with nerves as he at last pushed a finger inside his brother with care. He wasn’t sure what he was braced for, but he certainly was not prepared for Thor to moan as he did, and Loki wondered if this, too, was something his brother was accustomed to.

The very idea set Loki nearly aflame with jealousy and lust throbbing in his head and cock. But Thor was with _him_ now, and Loki would show him why he ought to have been in the past, why he should be again in the future. 

Despite the sudden whirlwind of his thoughts, Thor did not suffer for it. In fact, Thor lasted but moments under this new and impassioned assault, for Loki hooked his finger firmly, buried to the knuckle inside his gorgeous brother’s body, and Thor spent again inside his mouth with a stunned cry. 

Thor’s hips jerked towards him, and even only half hard Loki felt himself choke around the sudden intrusion. It was different that time, thinner and far more bitter as it spilled over his tongue. Despite how he choked and struggled to take it, in the aftermath Loki could only shudder with the intensity of the satisfaction and pleasure it brought him, bringing Thor to completion again in so short a time. 

And he could only imagine, as well, what that might have been like with Thor fully hard—the strain and ache to accommodate him so. But Loki could not deny how his own cock stirred at the thought, his entire being craving both the risk and reward in the unknown and as of yet unexperienced. Such as it had always been, for him.

For a few moments after, Loki kept going, enjoying greatly how Thor reacted to every sensation. It was a gentle and curious suction, one that continued until at last Thor hissed in discomfort and finally pleaded with him to stop.

Loki did, of course. He withdrew, laughing softly and breathlessly as he pressed a kiss to Thor’s belly. Oh, he _trembled_ , his body still so warm where Loki leaned into him, and Loki could feel how long it seemed to take for Thor to catch his breath. Though it took Loki somehow longer to realize Thor was also trying to _talk_ to him, over the pounding of blood in his ears. 

“Forgive me, brother,” Thor said, and although Loki tensed, the words did not immediately set off his sense of alarm. Thor seemed more—flustered, perhaps, and less irritatingly repentant. “I have not experienced that before, I did not realize how intense a sensation it would be.” 

Immediately, Loki stopped what he was doing. He looked up, staring at Thor in surprise. “Oh,” he said, clever as always. “You hadn’t? I thought, perhaps…”

Loki thought, of course, of how Thor had parted his legs for it in the first place, without question or pause, and he floundered in the absence of an easy explanation.

Thor only smiled at him, sheepish and pink, and again he pressed that powerful hand to the back of Loki’s head, still nothing but tender as he combed fingers through his hair. Loki shivered, feeling as though he could so easily become adrift, if not for that careful touch to anchor him. “I saw what you intended, yes,” Thor said, his voice low and playful. “It seemed a fair request, deserving of a little trust.”

Loki continued to stare at him, suddenly quaking inside at the words, and exhaled in another shiver. Thor didn’t seem to notice his lack of response, content to toy with Loki’s hair in the stillness, eager for the contact, until Loki could not bear his own thoughts.

Rather than give them voice, Loki once more kissed Thor’s skin, the smooth and firm plane of his stomach, if not his cock.  

“I don’t mind waiting a little longer,” he said instead, punctuated another promising kiss to Thor’s lower belly. When he looked up, he found Thor already watching, his eyes blazing and blue. “If you want to fuck me.” 

Thor could not hide the strength of his reaction to those words, not with Loki so close. His entire body twitched under the contact of Loki’s mouth, the expression on his face at once growing blatantly hungry and wanting. 

Pleased, Loki smiled wide—and quickly found himself in motion. Thor’s hands were on his shoulders, guiding him upright. Though he was unsure about the sudden shift, he went without a fight, allowing Thor to pull him up until he was once again face to face with… Well, Thor’s collar bone, anyway.

Close enough, he reasoned. Close enough to kiss, for that was Thor’s aim, and for that Loki was all too happy to oblige him. Thor kissed him sweetly, softly, with fingers buried in his hair, a perfect prelude for all yet to come.

Except as Thor pulled back to breathe, the next word out of his mouth was simply, “Dainsleif,” something so absurd in the moment that Loki found it utterly incomprehensible.

He blinked. “What?”

“Dainsleif,” Thor repeated, and to Loki’s sinking displeasure, the second attempt did ring a bell. “Your mission.”

“Shit,” Loki blurted. He did need to do that, didn’t he? “Right. But maybe—” 

Thor reached between them, cupping his chin, and lifting it until their eyes again met. And Loki promptly forgot what he was going to say. Hard to remember anything with Thor looking at him like that, so flushed and pleasured. Loki never wanted him to look any other way. 

“I have kept you long enough,” Thor continued, softly. 

In more ways than one, Loki thought, yet kept himself from ruining the mood. He chose instead to sigh deeply and dramatically under Thor’s warm gaze.

“I suppose I’d rather not give the All-Mother a reason to call back,” he said, but despite the enjoyment he got from watching Thor pale at those words, Loki then groaned, dragging his hands over his face. Avoiding having to deal with their mother was not enough of a motivator to help him out of bed, not with Thor still in it. “Ugh. Why am I letting you be a good influence on me?” 

Loki was making no attempt to conceal his displeasure and exasperation at the affront, and it did help him feel a little better to watch Thor struggle not to smile too openly. But then, with no small amount of hope threaded through the words, he added, “Next time?”

Thor hesitated at the question, while Loki’s heart pounded, and then he did nod. “Next time,” he said. “I promise.”

Although he had not intended to, Loki found himself only staring at Thor in response to that, and trying not to frown. Thor had always been a man of his word, and Loki had never questioned that. The last few weeks, however… 

As though sensing the path his thoughts had taken, Thor nodded again, his fingers kneading soft circles to the nape of Loki’s neck. It was meant to be soothing, and although part of Loki was contrary still, and longed to brush off the attempt, in the end he let himself be soothed. Because he wanted to be. 

“You said it yourself, brother,” Thor murmured, and smiled somewhat sheepishly. “I was incapable of staying away even when I wanted to—and now… Now I do not want to.” 

 _Risky_ , Loki thought, as his chest ached with warmth and hope. All of this, despite how much he longed for it, was risky, risky, risky. But he was a new man, and this a new adventure. 

In the end, as it had begun, he sealed the promise with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> up last: an epilogue, and also innuendo about a cursed sword


	4. epilogue

The apartment belonging to one Miss Verity Willis was…small. Thor did not judge her, of course, for the modest nature of her lodgings, though he did feel somewhat out of place in her living room and far too large for her couch. It creaked dangerously under his weight as he shifted, but it held him, and so he stayed put.

“Make yourself at home,” she called from the other room. She darted briefly into view, arms full, tidying as she went. “Don’t worry about your boots—”

Even a room away, he could tell she seemed flustered. Thor imagined he knew why; they had not spent much time together without Loki present, and it did feel rather strange. 

Strange, yes, but it was not unpleasant. She had been kind enough to offer her hospitality, and Thor had seen no reason to refuse the invitation. Particularly not as she had found him virtually on her doorstep, somewhat aimless after determining that Loki was still away.

He was not _worried_ , exactly; there was little chance that Loki was in real danger, even if the All-Mother’s task had been more complex than it seemed. 

It had simply been…a long week, left alone with his thoughts in Loki’s absence. Which may have accounted for the thin, somewhat high quality of his voice as he called back to Verity, “You said you had not seen him?”

There was an answering clatter from her personal quarters, but a moment later she at last emerged to rejoin him. “Sorry about that,” she said. “And yeah, I haven’t heard him come home. The last time he tweeted, the location was somewhere in Norway.”

“Tweeted?” Thor echoed, weakly. 

Verity nodded, but she was not looking at him. She had pulled her phone out, fiddling with the screen as she approached. “He also texted me the other day—here it is.”

Standing before him, she held the phone out, allowing him to see Loki’s most recent messages. Many of them seemed gibberish even with the aid of All-Speak, but the last was a picture, and Thor needed little aid for that. Even on the small device, he could make out Loki’s mud-streaked face, grinning up at him. 

At the sight of him, Thor felt very warm, and he smiled. What he could make out of Loki’s surroundings seemed cavernous and dark, though there was an odd and familiar shape in the very corner of the image.

His recognition must have shown on his face, for at once Verity asked, “You see it too, right? What is that?” 

“A draugr,” Thor said, sighing. 

Verity’s mouth pulled into a small frown as she took her phone back, staring down at it. “Should I be worried?”

Below him, the couch creaked as Thor relaxed back against it. He laughed, then, shaking his head, until she relaxed. The undead likely posed little threat to Loki—particularly if he had the time to take a picture in the depths of a cursed cave. 

“Well… That’s a relief then,” she said. And then, brightly, “How about a drink?”

That sounded a fine idea, and so she disappeared briefly into her kitchen. Alone again, his thoughts predictably drifted to his brother—but for the first time in many days, Thor felt at ease with the direction of those thoughts. Loki would return soon, he knew, and then…

“So, I don’t have mead or ale but…” Verity said, as she returned to the living room, holding up a bottle and two glasses. “Got some sparkling wine, if that’s all right?”

Interrupted from his straying thoughts, Thor smiled. “It would be a pleasure,” he said, and indeed it was, for the earlier awkwardness melted away as they drank together. Enough that when the conversation inevitably turned to their last meeting, Thor did not so much as flinch.

“I’ve been wanting to apologize to you,” she said, after a time. “For that—Doombot thing. I didn’t mean…”

“Oh, that,” Thor murmured, feeling his cheeks warm upon the memory. He shook his head. “No, you need not apologize for your good intentions. It means a great deal to me that my brother has a friend such as yourself, who cares for his wellbeing. He—he has not had many.” 

Verity glanced down at her glass and nodded. “Yeah. I know. And I do care about him.” For a moment, she seemed to grow distracted by her own thoughts, then shot him an almost conspiratorial look. “But he can be kind of a pain,” she admitted, with a small grin. 

A grin that Thor, after a pause, shyly returned. 

“Indeed,” he said, fondly. “He has caused me all manner of trouble, and probably will again. But the challenge he brings—it has been long worth it, for me, in exchange for the companionship he offers.”

His voice, already warm, softened then. It had long pained him, to think of the life they once shared, and all of the opportunities they had lost then. Though Thor sometimes felt its shadow…he found that ache was distant now, with his brother restored to him. They had new opportunities open to them, if different, and Loki was—well, Loki. 

That was all he had ever wanted, that he could not bear to lose. 

Thor cleared his throat. “I only I regret you were drawn into our personal matters,” he continued. “Rest assured, he and I have spoken at length, and I feel the issue is resolved.”

Verity made an odd face, seemingly before she could control it, her face turning bright pink. “Right,” she said awkwardly. “You guys talked—that’s good. Glad to hear it.” 

It was at that precise moment that Thor came to recall the exact nature of Verity’s gift, and that her front door swung open with an audible slam against the wall. Both their heads snapped in the direction of the sound; though nothing was broken, it seemed a near thing, and the mortifying truths revealed in their conversation was quickly forgotten at the sight of Loki staggering into view. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bust the door down but I’ve been texting you for an _hour_ and it’s important—” he exclaimed, making his way into the living room. He was covered in mud, clutching a sword wrapped in a stained and filthy cloth in his hand. 

At the sight of them both on the couch, Loki froze in place. “Thor,” he said, gaping. “What are you doing here? Wait—are you guys drinking _mimosas_?” 

Although the urge did strike him, Thor did not immediately rise to his feet to greet his brother. Instead, helplessly, Thor laughed, overcome with a rush of joy and warmth he could not even begin to blame on the drink in his hand. The sound seemed to only confuse Loki further, for his gaze darted between them both in disbelief, and he clutched Dainsleif to his chest.

“Did I interrupt something?” Loki asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “…Were you two talking about me?” 

“Not at all, brother,” Thor lied seamlessly, and appreciated when Verity merely smiled beside him, and did not speak a word to the contrary. 

“You’ve heard of knocking, right?” Verity asked, wry. The teasing seemed to deflate Loki somewhat, for he then approached them, extending the wrapped blade towards Verity. 

“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” Loki replied. “But look—I only need to know if this is really Dainsleif, because if I just spent a week in three thousand year old sludge for the wrong sword…” 

Trailing off, Loki exhaled, the tension leaving his shoulders as Thor regarded him quietly. The room itself seemed to fade to the background of his attention, including Verity as she investigated the sword. Thor heard her and Loki exchange words, but in truth he could not follow it, as Loki’s return and sudden presence before him took up the whole of his attention.

It had indeed been a long week. Days and days spent alone with his knowledge of the intimacy they had shared; alone also with his fears, that which had long gripped him. He had spent the time distracted, lost in his churning thoughts, waiting for doubt to creep in. As it always had. 

But in Loki’s absence, regret had not entered his heart, nor remorse. He’d thought—he’d feared—that perhaps, faced with Loki once more, such guilt might yet still return to him. 

Looking upon his brother now, Thor searched himself, and found none of it. 

No regret, no doubt. Only relief at the sight of him, a sense of certainty in his own desire that he longed to explore. And as Loki unexpectedly turned to look back at him, that certainty struck him as a nearly physical blow. 

“I was going to come find you next, actually,” Loki said to him, meeting his gaze, as a brilliant warmth sparked in Thor’s chest. “I thought maybe you could help me figure out what to do with this.”

Loki gestured with Dainsleif in his hand—though given the strange, choked cough from Verity beside him, Thor suspected that statement was not entirely truthful. 

He knew better than to encourage Loki. He knew as well that the All-Mother likely wanted the sword returned to Asgardia as quickly as possible, with little further delay. To do otherwise would likely invite trouble, he imagined, and for both of them. 

And yet, despite all of this, Thor could still not help but smile as he stood. Loki watched him, green eyes alight with some mischief, the promise of something Thor dared not guess, with a wide and crooked grin.

 “Excuse me, Verity,” Thor said at last, with a fond sigh. “I must assist my brother with his cursed sword.” 

Verity snorted, but admittedly Thor was no longer looking at her, for Loki was nodding enthusiastically as he stepped back towards the door. Following but a step behind, Thor continued, thoughtfully, “I’m sure we can find somewhere safe to put it.”

“Wow,” Verity groaned. “So you guys are _both_ just super gross, huh?”

He did not exactly understand her meaning, but it did not trouble him for long. As with many matters involving Loki—Thor simply knew better than to ask. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again to @reikah for all the support and time helping me get this thing into shape :') and as well to @wouldyouknowmore who unfortunately reminded me of the Loki-Leah almost kiss thing, and therefore is to blame for all of this.
> 
> I can be found on [tumblr](https://spacehussy.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacehussy) c:


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